


need

by cherryconke



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Comfort Sex, Edgeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryconke/pseuds/cherryconke
Summary: I can help distract you,Sylvain murmured, laving his tongue up and around until Felix cried out weakly.From the pain.update: i commissioned casey forart for this fic,check it out!!!
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 394





	need

It isn’t exactly what Felix had in mind when Sylvain whispered _let me take care of you._

Actually, the only thing he could think of when they finally, _finally_ returned from a brutal battle and a long ride back to the dilapidated monastery, covered in mud and sweat and blood, each of them dripping exhaustion and two steps away from dropping dead on their feet, was the sweet relief of his bed. Sylvain had derailed that plan, though; he'd swung off his horse first, handed the reins to Ingrid and pulled Felix along, gathering him up in his arms, wincing when Felix had whimpered pitifully as his injured arm jostled against the hard, unforgiving edges of Sylvain’s armor.

The wound had already bled through the bandages Mercedes wrapped around him before they left camp, the ache of the burn stinging underneath the layer of gooey ointment she promised would help speed up the healing process. Magic and vulneraries aside, though, it fucking hurt. Really, _really_ fucking hurt. So when Sylvain murmured, “let me take care of you, sweetheart,” Felix hadn’t had it in him to protest.

He let Sylvain carry him away from the stables and up stone steps to the sauna, pushing his face into his chest, the cool, dirty metal of his breastplate against his forehead a welcome relief to the splitting sun above them. Sylvain stripped him down, gentle hands scrubbing him free of dirt and blood, carefully skirting around the raw, red wound of his shoulder. He combed through snarled tangles of hair with far more patience than Felix usually has, trailing featherlight kisses across the line of his cheek with careful reverence. 

When Sylvain finally plucked him out of the water and bundled him into a towel, Felix’s eyes were half-lidded and falling fast, fading in and out of the blurry haze of consciousness, his body exhausted: from shock and healing and the bumpy ride home pressed up against Sylvain’s front – much like he is now.

Sylvain’s got him pulled up against his broad chest, his back sticking with sweat to Sylvain. One of his arms is secured firmly around Felix’s stomach, the other sliding slow along his cock. They’ve been at it for what feels like hours now; after Sylvain had spread him out on top of his bed, murmuring sweet nothings as he braided his hair back with deft, careful fingers, he’d wrapped Felix’s arm up in clean, fresh bandages, smoothing his broad palms over the unbearable heat of the Thoron burn, crackling down his arm like raw little spiderwebs. 

Then, he’d fallen between Felix’s knees, mouthing gently at the sensitive skin of his inner thighs until his cock was hard and shiny with spit. 

_I can help distract you,_ Sylvain murmured, laving his tongue up and around until Felix cried out weakly. _F_ _rom the pain_.

Sylvain uses freckled fingers and whispered words to his advantage, teasing Felix to the edge until he doesn’t even recognize the sounds dripping from his lips, high-pitched breathiness trilling out, sounding so unbelievably needy. Felix can feel the line of Sylvain’s cock against his back, hard and a little damp where it presses into him, but here, like this, trapped between Sylvain’s hands, there’s not much he can do but squirm and whine into his touch.

Weirdly enough, it _works._

Felix’s thoughts are stuck on loop as Sylvain drags his thumb back and forth across the head of his cock: _more, more, more._ He barely registers the pinpricks of shock that course through his injured arm as his hips flutter up into Sylvain’s hand; he’s drawn it out so good and so long that he’s hypersensitive to every little touch. Felix clenches the fingers of his good hand into Sylvain’s thigh, urging him on. 

“Syl– Sylvain.” His own voice comes out as a raspy whine, quiet and barely intelligible. 

“Yes, kitten?” Sylvain’s breath ghosts hot into his ear, his hand slowing to a loose circle that barely satisfies the need for friction.

“I need it,” Felix moans, spreading his legs wider to hook the curve of his ankles on either side of Sylvain’s knees. He’s too far fucked and love-drunk off the pleasurable pain of Sylvain bringing him up to the edge, only to leave him gasping and wanting, to care much at all about how shameless he must look. 

Sylvain hums into his ear, smearing clumsy kisses there as his hand on Felix’s stomach starts to move down. Felix just watches, helpless and squirming through tear-starred lashes as Sylvain’s fingertips dip to his balls, fondling them gently before moving lower to play with his rim, still swollen and leaking come from where Sylvain had fucked into him earlier, first with his tongue and then with his fingers and later with his cock, spreading him wide. 

Felix faintly registers letting his head fall back against Sylvain’s shoulder, leaving a gossamer strand of drool that pools off his chin and drips down onto his own chest as Sylvain’s hands find their rhythm, fingers stretching and pumping into him. It’s not enough pressure to satisfy, and Sylvain’s purposefully teasing and slow, but _fuck_ does it feel good, the perfect distraction to how his arm throbs and aches. 

“More,” Felix mumbles into the curve of Sylvain’s jaw, the faint stubble there rubbing ticklish against his forehead as he curls further into him. War has brought about many changes, but the most important one is this: the freedom to touch, to taste, to be wrapped up in Sylvain whenever and however he wanted or needed. The very real, very imminent threat of death had cracked Felix’s armor until it fell away into raw vulnerability, had cut a theoretical lifetime together short, had driven them both to desperation, reaching for each other most every night in need. 

“Yeah, kitten? You wanna come?” Sylvain purrs into his ear, and all Felix can do is nod in response against his neck, sweaty and desperate.

Felix gasps when Sylvain’s hand tightens around him, when his fingers drive a little deeper, not just teasing around his prostate but stroking firmly against it. He’s painfully hard, and the moan of relief he makes when Sylvain’s hand closes in around his cock is desperately loud against Sylvain’s throat. 

Skillful hands speed up, and Felix’s world narrows in to just his body, cradled in Sylvain’s lap, the warmth of him pressed up against his back, the filthy sounds of Sylvain pumping his cock and his hole in tandem, thumbs flicking and twisting just right, so good, bringing him there, and Felix stutters his hips up and cries out brokenly, because fuck, he’s so close, so _close–_

But then Sylvain pulls off at just the wrong moment, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing as his fingers skitter away. Felix lets out a desperate sob that effervesces into a low hiss when Sylvain’s hands find each of his nipples, the juxtaposition of light, teasing touches with perfect friction enough to make his head spin. 

_“Syl–”_

“Oh Fe, you’re doing so good for me,” Sylvain croons into his ear, biting kisses into his neck. “You look so gorgeous like this, all spread out. Look at your pretty cock.” He nudges the side of Felix’s face with his nose, lips moving to the crown of his braid as Felix lolls his head back to take in the sight below him: Sylvain’s palms spread wide across his flushed chest, his thighs hitched up, spread out and covered in bruises, his cock dark and painfully hard where it drools against his stomach. 

“Sylvain, _please,”_ Felix groans, nearly at the limit of how much he can take. Sylvain’s hands slow, charting a path back down towards his cock. He tilts Felix’s head back to nudge him into a kiss, all-encompassing and breathtaking. Sylvain’s eyes are flecked bright with caramel-gold when he pulls away, Felix gasping for air against his lips. 

“One more?” 

_Fuck._ Sylvain’s thumbs swirl circles into the tops of his thighs, too much and not nearly enough. 

“No, no, I can’t–” It comes out broken, Felix nearly sobbing by this point, but Sylvain cuts him off, drinks his cries in, his mouth soft and wet around his. 

“Shh, it’s okay, kitten, I’ve got you. Do you want my hands or my mouth?”

Felix’s brain short-circuits, overstimulated and overwhelmed and so deliciously distracted. “A-any. Either. Both.”

Sylvain hums into the skin behind his ear, and Felix, impossibly, melts further into him. As incredible as Sylvain is with his mouth, Felix wants this to last, wants to stay as distracted for as long as possible, wants to live in the warm cage of Sylvain’s body for a little bit longer, not quite ready for the cool relief of the sheets yet.

“Hands,” he decides, whispers it into the slope of Sylvain’s neck, smelling like soap and sex and sweat. 

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

This time, Sylvain doesn’t pull any punches. One hand circles Felix’s cock, tugging firm all the way from tip to base. The other briefly circles his loose hole before slipping two fingers inside, finding that sweet spot immediately and petting there in a steady rhythm. Felix vaguely realizes that he’s being loud, _too_ loud, whimpering and moaning out his pleasure, but he doesn’t really care, not when Sylvain’s voice is a constant melody in his ear, comprised of _you sound so good for me, kitten, I wanna see you come._

Felix is barely coherent when he begs _faster_ , but Sylvain doesn’t hesitate to oblige, hands moving quick, quick, quick inside him, around him, panting sharply into his ear. His orgasm crashes over him as abruptly as he’s ever had, blunt nails filing half-moons through the downy ginger hair on Sylvain’s thighs as he arches up into his touch, muscles spasming relentlessly as his hole milks Sylvain’s fingers and his come dribbles all over Sylvain’s hand. 

The afterglow is sweet and hazy as the tension snaps from his limbs and his body falls into a sweaty, limp puddle. Felix vaguely registers the soft, clean cotton of the sheets against his back as Sylvain slides out from beneath him, taking care not to bump his arm too much as he sinks down to nuzzle at Felix’s stomach. His hips jerk up weakly, ticklish and overstimulated by the touch, but Sylvain is nothing but gentle when he licks up the mess on Felix’s cock, mouthing him clean until he whimpers and pushes his forehead away. 

He feels the bed shift, Sylvain’s weight disappearing and then re-settling onto the edge, the soothing trickle of cool water down his brow as he wipes the sweat off his forehead and collarbone first, then moves down to his (significantly messier) stomach and thighs. Felix twitches, but doesn’t bother to open his eyes as Sylvain cleans off his limp, wrung-out body, fucked into a state of soft, tired trust.

Sylvain’s lips brush against his forehead when he rejoins him in bed, gathering him up carefully. “You alright? How’s your arm?”

Felix can’t find the strength to reply with words and just decides to nod instead, his head nestled into Sylvain’s shoulder. The pain in his arm is a low ache now, the burning sensation still there but dulled, not full-fledged yet. He feels just exhausted enough that he might be able to sleep and let the healing work its magic through him.

“I'll get Mercedes to heal you again in the morning." Felix just nods again. Sylvain chuckles softly, a gust of warm air against his neck.

"Goodnight, sweetheart.” Sylvain’s voice is a low rumble through his chest, patient fingers petting soft over his hair, tucking loose strands behind his ear. Felix is already halfway asleep when he murmurs _goodnight_ against Sylvain’s chest, slipping in closer to the unrelenting, ever-burning heat of his body.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in 2 hours on my phone in a fugue state  
>    
> [welcome to my sylvix screamhole](https://twitter.com/cherryconke)


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